Chapter 460 - 1

Chapter 1: Koneko Makes a New Friend

Author's Note: So yeah, I've been mulling over this kind of story for a while now. I mean, when you think about it, TWEWY and DxD seems like a breeding ground for crossover material. Magic/psychic powers, Angels/Fallen Angels in both, hidden worlds, all that stuff. So its kind of a shame that I haven't really seen stuff made for it. Guess that's where I come in, I guess. And what better way to start things off with a Boy meets Girl story between two sarcastic, deadpan, cat-themed 15 year olds with a penchant for laying their lives down for the people they care about.

...Yeah, it's gonna be one of those stories.

Disclaimer: Highschool DxD is owned by Ichiei Ishibumi and the World Ends with You is owned by Square Enix. I owe none of the works presented here.

XXXXX

The first time she met Neku Sakuraba, she didn't know what to think.

Except for one thing, which she then proceeded to vocalize.

"Why do you dress like that?"

"…I'm sorry?"

Let's back up a bit.

XXXXX

The day had been a relentless grind for Koneko Toujou, a gauntlet of frustrations that left her feeling like a coiled spring ready to snap. Morning started with a botched alchemy experiment in the Occult Research Club, where a miscalculated rune matrix exploded into a cloud of glittery ash, coating her pristine Kuoh Academy uniform in a stubborn shimmer that no amount of brushing could remove. Her white hair, usually neatly combed with straight bangs and two long strands framing her face, was now dusted with sparkling flecks, making her look like she'd rolled through a fairy's fever dream. Lunch was no better—some first-year had "accidentally" spilled miso soup on her skirt, and the snickers from the cafeteria crowd still echoed in her ears. By the time classes ended, her patience was thinner than the wornout soles of her school loafers.

Deciding to clear her head, Koneko slipped away from the clubroom, ignoring Rias's call for a post-incident debrief. The late afternoon sun hung low over Kuoh Town, casting long shadows across the quiet streets. Her stomach growled, a reminder she'd skipped lunch after the soup incident. She wandered aimlessly until she found a small park, its single wooden bench tucked beneath a gnarled cherry tree, its blossoms long gone. The air carried the faint scent of damp grass and distant car exhaust, grounding her in the mundane world she sometimes craved. She sank onto the bench, her petite frame barely taking up half the space, and let out a slow breath. Her hazel eyes scanned the empty park, hoping for a moment of peace.

That's when she saw him.

Across the park, sitting on the grass with his back against a low stone wall, was a boy about her age—fifteen, maybe sixteen. He was tearing into a box of chicken nuggets with the ferocity of someone settling a personal score. His spiky orange hair caught the sunlight like a warning flare, each strand defying gravity in a chaotic mess. His pale skin contrasted sharply with his sleeveless black shirt, its funnel-like collar framing his neck like some futuristic armor. An indigo stripe, outlined in gold, ran down the shirt's center, bold and unapologetic. White shorts hung loosely on his hips, secured by a belt that looked more decorative than functional, and his black shoes echoed the indigoandgold motif of his shirt. A yellow sweatband circled his left wrist, and around his neck hung a white MP3 player, its cord dangling like a lifeline. Most striking, though, were the oversized indigo headphones clamped over his ears, as if he were trying to block out the entire world.

Koneko's catlike instincts twitched. He was… odd. Not just his clothes, which screamed Shibuya street fashion in a town that preferred muted uniforms and sensible shoes, but the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his blue eyes narrowed in a scowl as he bit into a nugget with unnecessary force. He looked like he was arguing with the food itself, or maybe the world at large. She tilted her head, her white cat ears—manifested briefly from her Nekomata nature—flicking curiously before vanishing. Her stomach growled again, louder this time, and she realized she was staring at his food. Chicken nuggets weren't her usual fare, but right now, they looked like salvation.

She stood, brushing glitter from her skirt, and approached him. Her school uniform clung to her small, athletic frame, the white sailor blouse crisp despite the day's disasters, though the pleated skirt still bore faint miso stains. Her black knee-high socks hugged her calves, and her loafers clicked softly against the pavement. She stopped a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back, her expression as neutral as ever.

"Why do you dress like that?" she asked, her soft monotone cutting through the quiet park.

The boy froze mid-bite, a nugget halfway to his mouth. His blue eyes flicked up to meet hers, narrowing further. "…I'm sorry?" His voice was sharp, edged with irritation, but there was a hint of curiosity beneath it.

Koneko didn't flinch. "Your clothes. They're… loud." She gestured vaguely at his outfit, her gaze lingering on the headphones. "And those. You trying to drown out the whole town?"

He lowered the nugget, his scowl deepening. "What's it to you? I like my clothes. And yeah, maybe I am." He popped the nugget into his mouth, chewing deliberately as if daring her to keep talking. His posture screamed defensiveness, one leg bent and an arm resting on his knee, the yellow sweatband catching a glint of sunlight.

Koneko's nose twitched, catching the savory scent of fried chicken. Her stomach growled again, embarrassingly loud in the silence. She ignored it, tilting her head slightly. "You're new here," she said, more statement than question. "Nobody in Kuoh dresses like that."

He snorted, wiping his hands on his shorts. "Just moved here. Not my choice. And trust me, I'm not thrilled about it either." His tone was bitter, and he glanced away, staring at the stone wall like it had personally offended him. "This place is too quiet. Too… normal."

Koneko raised an eyebrow, her catlike instincts picking up on the undercurrent of his words. He wasn't just annoyed—he was carrying something heavier, like a wound that hadn't healed. She recognized that kind of weight; she carried her own. But she wasn't here to pry. Not yet. Instead, she pointed at the box of nuggets. "You gonna eat all those?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… maybe?" He glanced at the box, then back at her, his expression softening just a fraction. "You hungry or something?"

She nodded once, her face still impassive. "Rough day. Skipped lunch."

He hesitated, then slid the box toward her. "Knock yourself out. I got plenty." His voice was gruff, but there was a grudging kindness in the gesture. He leaned back against the wall, adjusting his headphones slightly, though he didn't take them off.

Koneko sat cross-legged on the grass, a safe distance away, and plucked a nugget from the box. She bit into it, the crispy coating giving way to warm, savory chicken. Her hazel eyes flicked to him as she chewed, studying the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee, the way his jaw tightened as he stared into the distance. He was like a stray cat, wary and bristling, but not entirely unapproachable.

"Name's Koneko," she said after swallowing, her tone as flat as ever. "You?"

"Neku," he muttered, barely audible. He didn't offer more, and she didn't ask. The silence settled between them, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the faint hum of his MP3 player. For now, that was enough.

Koneko nibbled on the chicken nugget, its crispy exterior crunching softly between her teeth as the savory warmth spread across her tongue. The park around them was still, the late afternoon light filtering through the cherry tree's bare branches, casting dappled shadows across the grass.

She swallowed, wiping a crumb from her lip with the back of her hand, careful not to smudge the glitter still clinging to her Kuoh Academy uniform. She reached for another nugget, her movements deliberate, and broke the silence. "So, why'd you move here?"

Neku's fingers paused mid-tap, his gaze snapping to her. "Parents," he said curtly, his voice laced with a bitterness that matched the tight line of his mouth. "Got new jobs. Didn't ask me what I thought about it." He tore into another nugget, chewing with more force than necessary, as if the act could grind down his frustration. "I was finally… I don't know, figuring things out back in Shibuya. Had people I could actually talk to. Then they drag me to this nowhere town." His eyes flicked to the empty park, his expression souring. "No offense."

Koneko tilted her head, studying the way his yellow sweatband caught the fading sunlight, the way his loose belt shifted as he leaned forward. His sleeveless black shirt clung to his slender frame, the indigo stripe bold against the pale expanse of his arms. He was lean, almost wiry, but there was a tension in his posture that hinted at resilience, like he'd been through more than he let on. "Shibuya, huh?" she said, her monotone voice softening just a fraction. "Heard it's loud. Crowded. You don't seem like the type who'd like that."

He snorted, a humorless sound. "I didn't. At least at first. Too many people, too much noise. But then I met some people and they…" He trailed off, his fingers brushing the MP3 player at his neck, as if it held the words he couldn't say. "Taught me some things. To help me see that the place I saw as loud, stifling, and empty…wasn't any of those things. Not saying that this town is bad, it's just…not the same."

Koneko leaned back on her hands, the grass cool beneath her palms, her gaze drifting to the cherry tree's barren branches swaying in the faint evening breeze. The park felt smaller now, the quiet wrapping around them like a cocoon, broken only by the occasional chirp of a distant cicada. Her thoughts flickered to the Occult Research Club—Rias's commanding warmth, Akeno's teasing lilt, Kiba's steady calm, Gasper's nervous energy. They'd become her anchor, her family, after the jagged edges of her past with Kuroka had left her wary of trusting anyone. She didn't say it aloud, but Neku's talk of finding people who shifted his perspective struck a chord deep in her chest.

"You miss them," she said, not a question but an observation, her voice steady yet gentle. She plucked another nugget from the box, rolling it between her fingers before taking a small bite. The savory crunch grounded her, a small comfort after the day's chaos.

Neku's shoulders tensed, his fingers pausing on the cord. "Yeah," he admitted, the word clipped but heavy with unspoken weight. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the movement causing his loose belt to shift slightly. "Took me a while to even realize I could miss people. Back in Shibuya, I used to think being alone was better. No one to drag you down, no one to… disappoint you." His voice dipped, a crack in his armor, and he quickly masked it with a shrug. "Guess I was wrong."

Koneko nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She understood that kind of solitude, the way it could feel like a shield until it became a cage. Kuroka's betrayal had taught her that, leaving a wound that still ached when she let her guard down. But the club had shown her something else—connection, messy and imperfect, but worth the risk. She swallowed the last of the nugget, wiping her hands on her skirt, heedless of the faint miso stains. "Sometimes it takes the right people to make you see it," she said, her monotone softening into something almost warm. "Doesn't mean it's easy."

Neku let out a short, dry laugh, the sound more self-deprecating than amused. "No kidding. I spent weeks learning that lesson the hard way. Thought I'd finally got it, then—bam—new town, new rules. Parents didn't even ask if I wanted to come here." He picked up a nugget, twirling it between his fingers like a coin before tossing it back into the box. "Now I'm stuck in this quiet-ass place, eating nuggets in a park with some random girl who thinks my clothes are weird."

Koneko's lips twitched, the closest she'd come to a smile all day. "Not random," she corrected, her tone dry but not unkind. "And your clothes are weird. But…" She tilted her head, her hazel eyes catching his for a moment. "They suit you."

He blinked, caught off guard, and for a split second, the scowl on his face softened. "Tch. Thanks, I guess." He leaned back against the wall, his posture loosening just a fraction, the tension in his shoulders easing. The MP3 player hummed faintly, a low buzz of music she couldn't quite make out, and she wondered what kind of songs he listened to—something loud and chaotic, probably, to match his spiky hair and defiant vibe.

Without thinking, she leaned closer, drawn by the rhythm like a moth to a flame. The grass crunched softly under her weight as she shifted, her knees brushing the cool blades. The beat was unmistakable, a raw, electric surge that vibrated through the air.

Time! I won't ever give in! 

No matter how hard you pull me in! 

I know gravity ain't an excuse.

Just wanna make things a little more smooth.

The majority is still asleep.

They're tired of those dreadful dreams.

Now, let me shout and wake you up, let me wake you up!

Her hazel eyes widened, a rare flicker of surprise breaking her usual stoic mask. "Is that… Three Minutes Clapping? By J.D. Camaro?"

Neku's head snapped up, his blue eyes narrowing as if she'd just spoken an alien language. "Uh, yeah? You listen to him?"

She nodded, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "Yep. Ever since he did that collab with CAT a while back."

Koneko wasn't one for gushing, but CAT's music had carved a quiet corner in her heart. Their beats, all raw energy and unapologetic freedom, felt like a rebellion against the world's expectations. She'd stumbled across their tracks during a late-night scroll through obscure music forums, hunting for something to drown out the memories of Kuroka's betrayal. CAT's motto—"do what you want, how you want, when you want"—resonated with her, a silent promise that she could carve her own path, no matter how many scars her past left behind.

And no, the fact that she listened to an artist literally named CAT was purely coincidence, shut up.

Neku's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement breaking through his guarded demeanor. "You know CAT too?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, and nodded. Before she could brace herself, he launched into a torrent of words, his voice picking up speed like a runaway train. "No way, that's awesome! CAT's got this vibe, you know? Like, Transformation—that track's got this raw edge, like it's tearing down everything fake. AndDeja Vu? It's like they're messing with your head, looping you into this weird nostalgic trip. Oh, and Twister—man, I've got like, half the remixes on my player. The Gang Mix is fantastic, but That Power is Yet Unknown Mix? Totally slept on." He gestured wildly, his hands slicing through the air, the yellow sweatband on his wrist catching the fading sunlight.

Koneko's lips twitched, her usual deadpan softening into something almost fond. It was… actually cute. The way his scowl melted, replaced by a boyish enthusiasm as he rambled about chord progressions and hidden meanings in CAT's lyrics. For someone who'd seemed ready to bite her head off earlier, this was a side she hadn't expected—a glimpse of someone who cared deeply about something, even if he tried to hide it behind layers of sarcasm.

Neku froze mid-sentence, his hands dropping as a flush crept up his pale cheeks. "Uh… sorry. Got carried away." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the grass. "Didn't mean to go full fanboy on you."

Koneko's smile was small but genuine, a rare crack in her stoic facade. "It's fine," she said, her voice light with a teasing edge. "Didn't know you were such a CAT fanboy, though. You got a shrine to them in your room or what?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Oh yeah? I suppose those cat ears you have on isn't purely coincidence either?"

…Wait.

What?

Her jaw dropped, her heart stuttering. "You… can see them?"

Neku blinked, his expression shifting to mild confusion. "I mean… yeah? They're not exactly hard to miss. I figured you were just really into cosplay at first, but then they started to twitch, and I figured they had to be real." He shrugged, as if commenting on the weather.

Honestly, it wasn't just the fact that Neku could see her Nekomata ears that sent her reeling—she'd spent years perfecting the art of hiding her demonic traits, cloaking them in glamour so seamless even most devils couldn't spot them. It was the way he didn't care, like her being part cat-Youkai was just another Tuesday. Her tail, invisible to most, flicked nervously behind her, brushing the grass. "And you… don't care?"

Neku shrugged again, popping a nugget into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Nah, not really. I've seen weirder, personally. Girl with cat ears doesn't even crack top ten."

"…You're weird," Koneko said, her voice flat.

Neku snorted again. "Says the chick with magic cat ears."

"…Touché."

The silence that followed wasn't heavy, but charged, like the air before a storm. Koneko leaned back on her hands, the grass tickling her palms, and studied him. The way his fingers tapped out a rhythm on his knee, matching the faint beat from his headphones. The way his eyes softened when he talked about music, like it was a lifeline. She didn't know his story—not yet—but she recognized the weight he carried, the kind that made you build walls and then hate yourself for it. Her own walls had cracks, thanks to the club, and maybe, just maybe, this strange boy with his loud clothes and louder music could widen those cracks a little more.

"So," she said, breaking the quiet, her tone casual but curious. "What's the weirdest thing you've seen, then? Since cat ears don't make the cut."

Neku's lips twitched, not quite a smile but close. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his MP3 player dangling against his chest. "You really wanna know? Might take more than a box of nuggets to get that story outta me." His voice was teasing, but there was a challenge in his eyes, daring her to push further.

Koneko raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "I've got time," she said, snagging another nugget and popping it into her mouth. "And you've got plenty of nuggets."

"Well…have you ever heard of the UG?"

XXXXX

Weeks had slipped by since that first encounter in the park, and Koneko found herself drawn back to the same spot—an unassuming patch of grass beneath the gnarled cherry tree, where the air carried the faint tang of earth and the distant hum of Kuoh Town. She and Neku had made it their unspoken ritual, meeting after school to share nuggets, trade barbs, and let the world's noise fade into the background. He never admitted he enjoyed their talks, but the way he showed up, always with a fresh box of chicken and a grudging halfsmile, told her enough. It turned out he was a student at Kuoh Academy too, just in a different class, which explained why she hadn't noticed him in the crowded hallways until now. Their paths only crossed when the final bell rang, and she'd spot him slinking out, headphones on, looking like he was daring the world to bother him.

Those afternoons revealed layers to Neku that Koneko hadn't expected. Between bites of crispy nuggets and the low thrum of CAT's latest track leaking from his MP3 player, he'd let slip pieces of his story—fragmented at first, like a puzzle she had to piece together.

The Reaper's Game.

Koneko's ears had twitched under her glamour when he first mentioned it, her Nekomata instincts stirring. Like most youkai, she'd heard whispers of it in the shadowed corners of the supernatural world—a brutal contest in a hidden plane called the Underground, where the dead fought for a second chance at life. It was a myth to some, a ghost story to others, but to those in the know, it was real: a week-long gauntlet orchestrated by enigmatic Reapers, where Players faced impossible odds, battling Noise—manifestations of negative emotions—while bound by pacts and cryptic rules. The Game was said to strip you bare, forcing you to confront your flaws, your fears, and the things you'd rather bury. Koneko had overheard tales of it from older youkai, their voices low with reverence or dread, describing Players who emerged changed—or didn't emerge at all.

She hadn't expected to meet someone who'd actually survived it. Let alone three times in a row.

Neku's voice had grown quiet when he spoke of it, his usual sarcasm giving way to a raw edge that made her chest tighten. He described the Game's cruelty, how it demanded an Entry Fee—the thing you valued most. For him, it had started with his memories, ripped away until he was a blank slate, fighting through Shibuya's crowded streets with no sense of who he was. Koneko's fingers had stilled on a nugget, her hazel eyes fixed on him as he recounted the second week, where his Entry Fee was his partner, Shiki—a girl who'd forced him to see beyond his own walls. And then the third week, when the Game upped the stakes, making every other Player his fee, a twisted attempt to break him. Koneko's jaw had clenched at that. It was pure, unadulterated bullshit, the kind of sadistic game only a cruel god would design. She'd seen her share of darkness—Kuroka's betrayal, the fear of her own Nekomata power—but this was something else entirely.

Yet, as Neku leaned back against the stone wall, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his knee, he said something that caught her off guard. "I'm glad it happened," he'd admitted, his voice low, almost reluctant. "Before those three weeks, I was… closed off. Thought I didn't need anyone. The Game—it forced me to see people, really see them. If it hadn't happened, I'd still be that guy, shutting everyone out."

Koneko had stared at him, the weight of his words settling over her like a quiet tide. She understood, more than she'd ever say aloud. Her own past had been a cage of fear and mistrust, built from Kuroka's abandonment and the whispers of those who saw her as a monster. The Occult Research Club had cracked that cage open, showing her a family worth fighting for, even if it meant facing her own demons. Neku's words echoed that truth: sometimes, it took breaking to rebuild stronger. She didn't say it, but she felt a quiet gratitude for the Game too—not for its cruelty, but for bringing him here, to this park, to her.

Today, the air was crisp, the late autumn sun casting long shadows across the grass. Koneko sat crosslegged, a half-eaten nugget in her hand, her school tie loosened after a long day of dodging Rias's questions about her recent "distractions." Neku was sprawled against the wall, one leg stretched out, his headphones resting around his neck asTwister played faintly. He'd been quieter today, his blue eyes distant, but the way he nudged the nugget box toward her was a silent invitation to keep the conversation going.

"So," Koneko said, her voice soft but pointed, "you ever gonna tell me what the UG's like? The actual place, not just the Game." She tilted her head, her hidden cat ears twitching with curiosity. "Bet it's weirder than Kuoh."

Neku's lips quirked, a ghost of a smirk. "Weirder's one way to put it. Imagine Shibuya, but… off. Like, the streets are the same, but the air's heavier, and everything's got this static vibe, like you're stuck in a glitchy video game. You see Noise crawling outta nowhere—tribal-tattoolike things with claws or wings, all teeth and bad vibes. And the Reapers…" He paused, his fingers brushing the MP3 player, as if grounding himself. "They're not all bad, but they're not your friends either. Got this one guy, Joshua—total prick, but he's the reason I'm still here."

His voice held a complex mix of emotions there when he talked about Joshua, Koneko noted. A mix of grudging respect, irritation, and sadness, like he was still sorting out how he felt. Whoever this Joshua guy was, it was clear thatsomething had happened between them.

She nodded at his words, chewing thoughtfully. The Underground sounded like a mirror to the demonic realms she'd glimpsed—chaotic, unforgiving, but with its own strange logic. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Sounds like a lot. Three weeks of that, and you're still sane. Mostly." Her tone was dry, but her eyes held a flicker of admiration.

He snorted, tossing a nugget in the air and catching it. "Mostly's generous. What about you? You're a devil, right? That's gotta come with some wild stories." His gaze flicked to her, sharp and curious, like he was testing the waters.

Koneko's tail flicked under her glamour, a reflex she couldn't quite suppress. She wasn't used to people outside the club knowing her secret, let alone treating it like small talk. But with Neku, it felt… easy. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing but guarded. "But you're gonna need more than nuggets to get those stories outta me."

He laughed—a real laugh, short and rough, but enough to make her lips twitch in return. The park felt warmer, despite the autumn chill, and for a moment, Koneko let herself relax, savoring the quiet connection that had grown between them, one nugget at a time.

XXXXX

The streets of Kuoh Town wound lazily through rows of tidy shops and quiet residential corners, the late afternoon light painting everything in soft golds and lengthening shades. Koneko and Neku ambled along without a word, their steps syncing in an easy rhythm born of shared silences. She'd offered a loose tour—pointing out the ramen joint with the killer spicy miso, the arcade tucked behind a bookstore that stayed open late for insomniacs like him.

Neku nodded along, hands shoved in his pockets, occasionally tossing in a dry quip about how the place felt like a postcard from Boredom Central. It was comfortable, this quietness between them.

A faint meow sliced through the hush, high and plaintive, yanking Koneko's attention like a taut string. Her head snapped toward the sound, ears perking beneath her glamour, and she veered off the sidewalk without a second thought, weaving past a lamppost and into a narrow alley flanked by brick walls and overflowing dumpsters. Neku's voice trailed after her—"Hey, wait up!"—but she was already gone, her loafers scuffing against the uneven pavement.

He caught up with a sigh, rounding the corner to find her staring upward, hands planted on her hips. There, wedged in the crook of an old oak's branches about ten feet up, a tabby cat dangled, its fur a mottled gray-brown, eyes wide with feline panic. Cliché as hell, Neku thought, rubbing the back of his neck. The tree loomed over a small fenced yard, leaves rustling in the breeze like they were mocking the whole setup.

Koneko crouched slightly, muscles coiling under her uniform skirt, her Rook-enhanced strength humming just beneath the surface. One leap, and she'd have the poor thing down in seconds—easy as snatching a fly from the air. But Neku's hand shot out, gentle but firm on her shoulder. "Hold up. I got this."

She straightened, brow furrowing as he fished something from his pocket—a sleek black pin, etched with a stylized white glove that gleamed faintly in the dappled light. Confusion pinched her features. "What's that gonna—"

Before she could finish, Neku pinned it to his collar, and the air around him shimmered like heat off asphalt. An invisible force rippled outward, precise and controlled, wrapping around the cat like an unseen cradle. The tabby let out a startled yowl as it lifted smoothly from the branch, branches parting without a snap, descending in a gentle arc straight into Neku's waiting arms. No rush, no drama—just effortless, like gravity had decided to take a coffee break.

Koneko's eyes blinked in rapid succession, her mouth parting in a rare display of slack-jawed awe. The pin's power faded with a soft hum, leaving the alley still once more. "What was that?"

Neku cradled the cat against his chest, one hand steadying its trembling form. "Psychokinesis pin. Souvenir from the Game. Lets me nudge stuff around—lift, toss, whatever. Handy for more than just fighting Noise." His tone was matter-of-fact, like explaining how to tie a shoelace, as he scratched behind the tabby's ears with careful fingers. The cat melted into the touch, purring low and rumbling, its tail curling in lazy approval.

Koneko watched, transfixed by the contrast—the boy who scowled at the world handling this scrap of fur with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. His usual sharp edges softened, shoulders relaxed, the faint lines of tension around his eyes easing as the cat nuzzled his palm. It was a glimpse of something unguarded, a quiet competence that made her chest feel oddly full, like she'd stumbled on a hidden room in a familiar house.

He caught her staring, one eyebrow arching. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she said, voice even but laced with a warmth she didn't bother hiding. "It's just… you're nicer than you let on."

Neku snorted, the sound light and deflecting, though his cheeks tinged pink under the scrutiny. "Yeah, well, don't get too used to it. I have a reputation to maintain."

"To who, exactly?" Koneko shot back, her tone flat and bone-dry, arms crossing over her chest.

"…Point taken." He conceded with a grudging huff, glancing down at the tabby, who'd gone full limp in his hold, eyes half-lidded in bliss. "Looks to be a stray. No collar, no tags—nothing screaming 'owner's out there freaking.'"

"There's an animal shelter nearby. We can take her there."

"I'm guessing you do this a lot, then." He paused, blinking as her words sank in. "Wait—you can tell she's a girl?"

She shrugged, a ghost of a smirk tugging her lips. "It's a Nekomata thing."

"Huh. Cool."

"…Has anyone ever told you that you're way too casual about accepting this kind of stuff?"

Neku just shrugged in return, shifting the cat to one arm so he could adjust his headphones around his neck. "At some point during the Game, I just learned to roll with the punches. Helps keep you sane in spite of… well, everything."

The alley felt smaller now, the weight of his casual wisdom hanging between them like shared fog. Koneko nodded, falling into step beside him as they emerged back onto the street, the tabby's purr a steady vibration against his shirt. The shelter wasn't far—a squat building with peeling paint and a sign that read "Second Chances" in faded letters—and as they walked, she stole glances at him, the cat's contented mews underscoring the easy sway of their strides. For all his talk of rolling with punches, moments like this made her wonder just how many he'd taken, and how he'd come out the other side still able to cradle something fragile without flinching.

The animal shelter's door creaked as Koneko pushed it open, the bell above jingling with a tinny chime that echoed through the cramped lobby. The air inside was warm, heavy with the mingled scents of pet shampoo, kibble, and a faint whiff of anti-septic. Rows of cages lined the walls, filled with soft yips and curious eyes peering through metal bars. The tabby in Neku's arms let out a contented mew, her small body still nestled against him, oblivious to the shift in scenery.

Behind the counter, a woman with gray-streaked hair and laugh lines etched deep around her eyes looked up from a clipboard. Her face split into a warm grin as she spotted Koneko, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. "Well, if it isn't Koneko, my favorite stray-wrangler!" she said, her voice bright with familiarity. "Another one, huh? You've got a knack for finding the lost ones." Her gaze slid to Neku, lingering on the way he cradled the cat, then flicked up to meet his eyes. A mischievous glint sparked in her expression, and Koneko's stomach sank. She knew that look—trouble, wrapped in a smile.

"Oh, Koneko, who's this?" the woman asked, leaning forward on her elbows, her tone dripping with playful curiosity. Her name tag, slightly crooked, read "Miyako," and the way she tilted her head made it clear she was fishing for more than just a name.

Koneko's lips pressed into a thin line, her cheeks warming despite her best efforts to stay impassive. "Just a friend," she said, her voice flat, though the faintest edge of defensiveness crept in. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip, hoping to steer the conversation back to the cat. "Found this one in a tree. No collar, no tags. She's a stray."

Miyako's grin widened, undeterred, as she stepped around the counter, her floral apron swaying with the motion. "A friend, hmm? Well, aren't you a lucky kitty to have two heroes today." She winked at Neku, who blinked back, his expression caught between confusion and mild annoyance. The tabby purred louder, oblivious to the subtext, as Miyako reached out to give her a gentle scratch under the chin. "She's a sweetheart. I'll take her in, get her checked out. But you, young man—" she pointed a finger at Neku, her eyes twinkling—"you've got some explaining to do. How'd you end up roped into Koneko's cat-rescue missions?"

Neku shifted the cat in his arms, his posture stiffening slightly as he shrugged. "Was just there when she heard it yowling. Didn't seem like a big deal." His voice was gruff, but the way his fingers kept absently stroking the tabby's fur betrayed a softness he couldn't quite hide. He glanced at Koneko, one eyebrow raised as if to say, You gonna handle this or what?

Koneko exhaled through her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He's new in town," she said, keeping her tone clipped. "Helped get her down. That's it." She shot Miyako a pointed look, hoping to quash the teasing before it spiraled.

Miyako chuckled, clearly enjoying herself too much to stop. "Oh, I see. A knight in shining… headphones?" She gestured at the indigo pair slung around Neku's neck, then turned to Koneko with a mock whisper. "He's cute, you know. You could do worse for a sidekick."

"Miyako, just take the cat."

Miyako's grin was all teeth as she scooped the tabby from Neku's arms, her fingers gentle but practiced, like someone who'd handled a hundred strays before breakfast. The cat settled against her with a soft mew, its tail flicking lazily as Miyako's eyes darted back to Neku, sparkling with that same meddlesome curiosity. "So, where you from, kid? Don't tell me you're another Kuoh local Koneko's been hiding from me."

Neku leaned against the counter, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other absently adjusting the headphones slung around his neck. "Shibuya," he said, his voice carrying a faint edge of nostalgia. "Big city, loud, messy. Nothing like this place."

Miyako's eyes lit up, her gasp loud enough to startle a nearby puppy into a yip. "Shibuya! Oh, I've heard stories! Neon lights, crowds thicker than my grandma's miso soup, and those fancy boutiques you'd never catch me affording." She chuckled, cradling the tabby like it was her personal audience. "Bet it's a far cry from our sleepy little town, huh? How you holding up here?"

Neku's shoulders lifted in a half-shrug, his gaze drifting to the window where the fading light painted Kuoh's streets in soft oranges. "It's… different. Shibuya's got this pulse, y'know? Always moving, always something going on. Took me a while to get it, but once I did…" He trailed off, his fingers brushing the edge of his MP3 player, a flicker of something soft passing over his face. "I miss it. The noise, the people. Feels like I left a piece of myself back there."

Koneko's gaze dropped to the scuffed linoleum floor, her chest tightening. She got it—missing a place that shaped you, even if it wasn't perfect. The Occult Research Club was her Shibuya, a chaotic anchor that kept her grounded despite the scars of her past. She couldn't fault him for feeling the pull of a city that had changed him, just like her club had changed her.

"…But it's not all bad."

Koneko blinked, her head snapping up to meet his eyes. Neku's expression was casual, but there was a warmth in his voice that caught her off guard. "Sure, Kuoh isn't Shibuya, but it doesn't need to be. It's got its own vibes." He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Plus, the company isn't half-bad."

Her lips parted, a small smile breaking through her usual stoic mask before she could stop it. Miyako's warm laugh filled the room, rich and rolling, as she shifted the tabby to one arm. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that! It's nice to see you adjusting to our little town. It may not seem like much, but there's a beating heart within it."

Neku's smile was soft, almost reluctant, but it reached his eyes. "I can tell."

Miyako waved over a worker—a lanky teenager with a mop of dark hair—who gestured for Neku to follow him to the back where the cat would be settled. As Neku trailed after, still scratching the tabby's head, Miyako leaned in close to Koneko, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ooh, I like him."

"Don't," Koneko said, her tone flat as a board, though her cheeks warmed traitorously.

Miyako's teasing glint didn't waver, her lips curling like she'd just found a juicy secret. "Oh, don't be like that. I'm just saying it's nice to see you hanging out with a friend your own age instead of bringing random strays here all the time. Not that I don't appreciate you bringing more cuties for me, but it's nice to see you live a little."

Koneko opened her mouth to snap back that she so did have friends her own age—then stopped cold. The protest died on her tongue as reality sank in. Gasper was the only one who really fit that bill, and he was currently holed up in his room, probably trembling inside his cardboard box fortress. The rest of the club—Rias, Akeno, Kiba—they were family, sure, but older, their lives tangled in responsibilities and histories she could only half-grasp. Then there were her devil contracts, like Morisawa, who had her cosplay and lug him around like a human carnival ride. Nice guy, but… yeah, creepy in his own way.

Neku, though? He was her age, outside the whirlwind of devils and mythologies, and refreshingly uninterested in her Nekomata side beyond a casual shrug. He wasn't part of her world, didn't ask her to be anything other than herself. Just a guy with headphones, a weird pin, and a knack for making her smile without trying.

So for all intents and purposes, he was the only person her own age she can actually hang out with outside of the club.

…Wow, that was kind of sad now that she thought about it.

She shook off the thought, her gaze drifting to the back where Neku was handing over the tabby to the worker, his movements careful, almost protective. The cat nuzzled his hand one last time before being whisked away, and he turned back, catching her eye. "What's with the face?" he asked, sauntering over, his tone light but curious. "You look like you're solving world hunger or something."

Koneko huffed, uncrossing her arms. "Just thinking. You're not the worst person to hang out with, y'know."

He blinked in confusion. "Thanks…I think."

The streets of Kuoh Town were hushed as Koneko and Neku stepped out of the shelter, the evening air crisp with the bite of late autumn. The sky had deepened to a bruised purple, streetlights flickering to life one by one, casting pools of amber light across the pavement. Their footsteps echoed in tandem, a steady rhythm as Koneko led the way to Neku's place, following the directions he'd given her—a modest apartment block tucked down a quiet side street, its faded brick facade blending into the dusk.

They stopped in front of the building, its windows dark, not a single glow spilling from the unit Neku pointed out as his. Koneko's brow furrowed, her hidden tail giving a subtle flick under her glamour. "Your parents home?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity, her gaze lingering on the unlit windows.

Neku shrugged, his hands buried deep in his pockets, the faint hum of his MP3 player barely audible. "Nah. They're never really around. Was like that even before the Game." His tone was flat, like he was stating the weather, but there was a weight to it, a quiet resignation that hung in the air.

"…Oh."

He caught the shift in her voice, the faint note of sympathy, and turned to face her, one eyebrow raised. "It's nothing," he said, brushing it off with a quick wave of his hand. "Been used to it forever. Just how it is." His eyes softened, just a fraction, as he leaned against the chipped railing of the steps. "You good getting home? I can walk you if you want."

Koneko shook her head, her lips twitching into a faint, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Devil, remember? Nobody's dumb enough to mess with me." Her tone was dry, but there was a warmth beneath it, a quiet confidence that didn't need to brag.

As she turned to go, Neku's voice stopped her, casual but deliberate. "Hey, hold up." She glanced back, catching the way he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare hint of hesitation in his posture. "You, uh, wanna swap numbers? Y'know, in case you find another cat stuck in a tree or something."

Koneko blinked, caught off guard, her fingers pausing on the strap of her school bag. The request was simple, practical even, but it carried a weight she hadn't expected—an invitation to keep this connection going, to make their park meetups and stray rescues more than just chance. Her hazel eyes studied him for a moment, taking in the slight tilt of his head, the way his blue gaze held hers without flinching, steady despite the faint flush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure," she said finally, pulling out her phone, its case scuffed from too many tumbles during training. She thumbed open her contacts, passing it to him with a small nod. "Don't spam me with Twister remixes, though. I've got enough of those."

Don't get her wrong, she thought the song was really cool. But did it REALLY need to have 20-plus remixes? When she brought this up towards Neku one time, he just gave her a flat stare and bluntly said yes as if she was talking crazy for even saying otherwise.

Said boy snorted, a grin tugging at his lips as he took her phone, his fingers brushing hers for a split second. "No promises," he said, typing in his number with quick, practiced taps. He handed it back, then pulled out his own phone—a battered thing with a CAT artwork wallpaper—and offered it to her. "Your turn."

She entered her number, her movements precise, and handed it back, their fingers grazing again, brief but enough to make her aware of the warmth of his skin against the cool evening air. "There," she said, slipping her phone back into her bag. "Now you're stuck with me."

"Guess I'll survive," he shot back, his grin widening just enough to show a flash of teeth. He lingered on the steps, watching as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, the streetlight catching the faint outline of her hidden ears twitching under her glamour.

Koneko gave a small wave, turning to head down the street, her loafers scuffing softly against the pavement. The night felt lighter somehow, the quiet of Kuoh less stifling than usual. She didn't look back, but she could feel Neku's gaze on her, steady and unintrusive, until she rounded the corner and the apartment block disappeared from view. Her phone buzzed in her bag—a test message, probably, knowing him. She'd check it later, maybe fire back something snarky about him texting so soon that he would then deny. For now, she let the moment settle, a small spark of connection glowing in the back of her mind, warm as the promise of another park meetup.

XXXXX

The Occult Research Club room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of old books and the faint crackle of demonic energy. The velvet drapes were drawn tight, casting the space in a muted glow from the single lamp on Rias's desk. Koneko stood near the wall, her arms crossed, her hazel eyes narrowing as she sized up the newest member of their chaotic little family: Issei Hyoudou.

He wasn't the worst, she'd give him that. Loud, sure, with a voice that could probably wake a coma patient, and enthusiastic in a way that made her want to roll her eyes so hard they'd get stuck. But there was a sincerity to him, a stubborn kind of heart that shone through when he talked about saving Asia—a girl Koneko hadn't even met yet. His passion was infectious, tugging at something deep in her chest, a quiet echo of her own loyalty to the club. Still, there was one glaring issue that made her skin crawl.

Issei was a pervert.

A huge pervert at that.

The kind who'd probably trip over his own feet staring at a skirt in the breeze.

She'd caught him more than once sneaking glances at Rias or Akeno, his eyes glazing over like a kid in a candy store, muttering things under his breath that made her want to punt him into the next dimension. It wasn't just the leering; it was the way he'd blurt out his thoughts without a filter, like when he'd rambled about "oppai" during a strategy meeting, earning a swift smack from Koneko's hand. Koneko had spent enough time dodging creeps who looked at her small stature and proportions with unsavory thoughts. Issei wasn'tthat bad, but he was close enough to make her wary, her tail flicking irritably under her glamour.

Now, though, he was pacing the room, his fists clenched, his face set with a determination that almost made her forget his less savory traits. He was deadset on storming the church to rescue Asia, a nun he swore was innocent, caught in some mess with fallen angels. Koneko didn't know the full story—nobody did, not really—but Issei's conviction was enough to pull her and Kiba into the fray. She'd volunteered without hesitation, her Rook instincts kicking in, ready to smash through whatever stood in their way. Kiba, ever the knight, had nodded in agreement, his calm demeanor a steady anchor beside Issei's fire.

As they prepared to head out, Koneko's hand drifted to her phone, her thumb hovering over her contacts. Neku's name stared back at her, a quiet temptation. She could picture him now, slouched against the cherry tree in their park, headphones humming with CAT's latest track. He'd handled the stray cat with a gentleness that surprised her, but he'd also survived the Reaper's Game—three times, no less. If anyone could roll with the chaos of a church full of fallen angels, it was him. But dragging him into her world, with its devils and bloodshed and secrets… was that fair? He wasn't part of the club, wasn't bound to their fights. He was just a guy who liked nuggets and music, who didn't flinch at her cat ears. Her chest tightened, torn between wanting his steady presence and wanting to keep him safe from the mess she called normal.

Kiba's voice cut through her thoughts, smooth and observant. "What's up, Koneko?" He stood a few steps away, his sword sheathed but his posture alert, his green eyes catching the way her fingers lingered on her phone.

She froze, then slipped the device back into her pocket, her expression smoothing into her usual deadpan. "Nothing," she said, her voice clipped but soft. "Just thinking."

Kiba tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips, like he could sense the storm brewing behind her calm facade. "You sure? You've got that look—like you're about to punch something or call someone."

Koneko's sigh was a quiet puff of air, barely audible over the creak of the Occult Research Club's floorboards, but it carried the weight of her indecision. Kiba's knack for reading her was irritatingly spot-on, as always. His green eyes held that gentle, knowing look, like he could see the gears grinding in her head without her saying a word.

"It's just…" She hesitated, her voice low, almost reluctant. "I have a friend who might be able to help us."

Issei's head snapped up from where he'd been pacing, his brown eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and that relentless enthusiasm that made her want to both admire and throttle him. "A friend, you say?" He leaned forward, hands on his hips, a grin spreading across his face like he'd just been handed a free pass to a buffet. "What kinda friend? Like, a badass devil friend? Or, wait—don't tell me it's a cute girl!" His voice pitched up, his imagination clearly running wild, and Koneko's glare could've melted steel.

"Not a girl," she said flatly, her tone sharp enough to cut through his daydreams. "And not a devil. Just… someone who's good in a fight."

Kiba's smile softened, his posture easing as he leaned against the edge of Rias's desk. "Someone we don't know, huh? That's new." His voice was light, but there was a subtle probe in it, like he was gauging how much this "friend" meant to her. "You think they'd be up for this? Storming a church isn't exactly a casual favor."

Koneko's jaw tightened, her hidden tail giving a restless twitch under her glamour. "He's… been through worse," she said, choosing her words carefully. "But I don't know if I wanna drag him into this. It's our mess." Her eyes flicked to Issei, who was still grinning like he was picturing some action-movie teamup, then back to Kiba. "He's not part of the club. Isn't in our world of devils or fallen angels. Not really."

Issei's grin faltered, replaced by a curious tilt of his head. "Wait, so this guy's just a normal dude? But you think he can help us save Asia?" He scratched his cheek, his enthusiasm dimming just enough to show a flicker of genuine concern. "I mean, I'm all for extra backup, but… you sure he's cool with jumping into something crazy like this?"

Koneko's fingers curled into fists at her sides, her mind wrestling with the strain of weighing her options. It's not as if she didn't want his help. After all, he survived the Reaper's Game all three times in a row so that had to count for something.

But the thought of him getting hurt, or worse, seeing her as the monster she sometimes feared she was… it made her chest ache in a way she wasn't used to.

A gentle weight settled on her shoulder, and she glanced up to find Kiba's hand there, steady and warm. His smile was soft, the kind that could disarm you without trying, radiating that quiet confidence that made him the club's anchor. "If he's as reliable as you think he is, it might not be a bad idea to have him help out," he said, his voice low and measured, like he was offering her a lifeline. "You trust him, don't you? That's not something you give lightly."

Koneko's lips parted, then pressed shut again, her hidden tail twitching under her glamour. Kiba wasn't wrong—she didn't trust easily. Years of betrayal and fear had carved that into her, a lesson learned from Kuroka's abandonment and the whispers that painted her as a monster. Neku, though, had slipped past her walls, not with grand gestures but with quiet moments: a shared box of nuggets, lifting a cat from a tree, a grudging laugh that made her feel seen. He'd faced his own hell in the Underground, come out stronger, and somehow still found it in him to be gentle with a stray. If anyone could handle the insanity of their world, it was him.

Still, the doubt lingered, sharp as a claw. What if he got hurt? What if he saw her in battle, all raw power and Nekomata fury, and decided she was too much? Too dangerous? Her fingers tightened around her phone, the plastic case creaking faintly. "He's not one of us," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than Kiba. "He's… normal. Well, normal-ish. I don't wanna pull him into something he didn't sign up for."

Kiba's hand squeezed her shoulder lightly before dropping away, his smile unwavering but tinged with understanding. "Normal or not, he sounds like someone who can handle himself. And if he's your friend, he'd probably want to help, especially if you're the one asking." He tilted his head, his tone teasing but gentle. "Besides, you're not exactly helpless. If things go south, you'll have his back, right?"

Issei, catching the tail end of the conversation, spun around, his eyes bright with that reckless energy that made him both infuriating and oddly inspiring. "Wait, hold up! This friend of yours—he's some kinda tough guy, right? Like, does he have cool powers or something?" He leaned in, too close for comfort, his grin wide and eager. "C'mon, Koneko, spill! Is he, like, a secret ninja or what?"

She shot him a withering glare, her voice dry as bone. "He's not a ninja. And back off before I bench press you into the next ward." Issei yelped, stumbling back a step, but his grin didn't fade, like he was used to her threats by now.

Kiba chuckled, the sound soft and disarming, cutting through the tension. "Point is, Koneko, you don't have to decide alone. If you think he can help, give him a call. If not, we've got this." He gestured between himself and Issei, who puffed out his chest like he was auditioning for a hero role. "But something tells me you already know what you want to do."

Koneko's gaze dropped back to her phone, Neku's name still glowing on the screen. Her thumb hovered over the call button, her chest tight with a mix of fear and something warmer—trust, maybe, or the hope that he'd say yes without hesitation. She could almost hear his voice, dry and sarcastic, telling her to stop overthinking and just text him already.

For the first time in a long while, she let herself lean into that hope, just a little, and pressed the call button.

The phone's tinny speaker crackled faintly against Koneko's ear, the cool night air of Kuoh Town brushing her skin as she stood outside the Occult Research Club, the old school building looming behind her like a silent sentinel. The street was quiet, save for the distant hum of a car and the rustle of leaves skittering across the pavement. Her grip tightened on the phone, Neku's voice cutting through her doubts with a bluntness that was so him it almost made her smile—almost.

"…So let me get this straight," he said, his tone dry enough to rival her own. "You want me to roll up, join you in helping this random-ass girl I know nothing about, all to fight against some fallen angels who'd love for nothing more than to shish-kebob you guys with light spears."

Koneko flinched, the words hitting like a jab to the ribs. Okay, yeah, when he laid it out like that, it sounded like a lot—too much, maybe, for someone who wasn't neck-deep in devils and divine wars. Her tail twitched under her glamour, a nervous tic she couldn't suppress. "I understand," she said, her voice softer than she meant, tinged with a reluctant acceptance. "You don't have to come if you don't—"

"Okay, I'm in."

...Wait.

What?

She froze, her breath catching. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Her voice came out sharper, disbelief lacing every syllable as she pressed the phone closer, like she might've misheard him through the static.

Neku's sigh crackled through the line, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly thrilled to be out there, risking my neck against some winged psychos with a hard-on for glowing spears. But…" He paused, and she could almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck, headphones slung low, his blue eyes narrowing as he chose his words. "From what you said about this Asia girl—someone being used as a pawn in some scheme she doesn't even understand? Yeah, I...know what that's like. I don't want anyone else going through that kind of crap."

Koneko's eyes widened, her heart giving a quiet lurch. There was something raw in his voice, a shadowed edge that hinted at scars she hadn't pried into—memories of the Reaper's Game, maybe, or whatever hell he'd clawed his way out of in Shibuya. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, to dig just a little deeper, but he kept going before she could.

"And besides…" His voice softened, just enough to catch her off guard.

"Besides what?" she pressed, her tone steady but curious, her fingers tightening around the phone.

"…You asked me to help. That's more than enough reason."

The words landed like a pebble in still water, rippling through her. For a moment, she didn't know what to say, her usual deadpan faltering under the weight of his quiet sincerity. Neku wasn't the type to throw around grand declarations—he was all sharp edges and dry quips, but this? This was him choosing to step into her world, no questions, no hesitation, just because she'd asked. Her chest warmed, a flicker of something soft and unfamiliar curling around her ribs.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay even. "You're insane, you know that?" But there was no bite in it, only a faint smile tugging at her lips, hidden in the dark.

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one," he shot back, and she could hear the grin in his voice, that snarky lilt that made her want to roll her eyes and laugh at the same time."Where do you need me? And don't tell me it's some creepy church in the middle of nowhere, 'cause I'm already regretting this."

Koneko huffed, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "It's exactly a creepy church in the middle of nowhere. I'll text you the spot. Don't be late, or I'll eat your nuggets."

"Low blow, cat girl." There was a pause, then a quieter,"See you soon."

The call ended with a soft click, and Koneko lowered her phone, staring at the screen as Neku's name faded to black. The night felt sharper now, the stakes heavier, but there was a steadiness in her step as she turned back toward the club room. Kiba was waiting by the door, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, catching the shift in her expression. Issei was still inside, probably hyping himself up with some overthetop speech about saving Asia. But Neku's words echoed in her mind, anchoring her. He was coming—not for glory, not just for Asia, but for her.

And somehow, that made the looming fight feel just a little less daunting.

XXXXX

"Okay, so what's this guy actually like? Ooh, is he some kind of secret government agent with enough firepower to take down a local drug cartel? Or is he some super ninja with tons of crazy ninjutsu training? Or is he an alien from another planet all the way from the edge of the galaxy?! Because in a world full of devils and fallen angels, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if—"

"Perv?"

"Yes?"

"If you don't stop talking, I will hit you."

"…Duly noted."

Kiba stifled a chuckle, his lips curving into a subtle grin as he leaned against the weathered stone wall on the church's fringes, the night's chill seeping through his jacket. The air out here carried a metallic tang, laced with the distant echo of wind chimes from the chapel's belfry, a deceptive calm masking the rot of fallen angel corruption within. Issei fidgeted beside him, bouncing on his heels like a coiled spring, his earlier bluster now a restless hum under his breath, while Koneko stood a few paces off, her posture rigid, eyes scanning the shadowed treeline for any sign of their wildcard ally. The moon hung low, slicing silver edges across the overgrown grass, and Kiba let the quiet stretch, content to observe—the way Issei's fingers drummed against his thigh, betraying nerves beneath the bravado; the faint twitch in Koneko's jaw, a telltale sign of her guarded hope. These moments before a storm always sharpened everything, peeling back layers to reveal the raw pulse beneath.

Footsteps crunched on gravel, deliberate but unhurried, drawing Kiba's gaze. A figure emerged from the gloom, compact and unassuming, his spiky orange hair catching the moonlight like a flare before he stepped fully into view. At maybe five-foot-four, he moved with a loose, predatory ease—shoulders relaxed, hands jammed in the pockets of white shorts that looked more suited to a summer jog than a midnight raid. A sleeveless black shirt hugged his slender frame, its funnel collar framing the indigo headphones perched on his head like a crown, while a white MP3 player dangled from a cord around his neck, glinting faintly. Yellow sweatband on one wrist, black shoes with gold-outlined stripes—city casual, worlds away from tactical gear, yet there was no hesitation in his stride, no wide-eyed scan of the unfamiliar. He paused at the group's edge, blue eyes flicking over them with a cool appraisal, pale skin almost luminous in the dim light.

Koneko's head snapped up, raising an eyebrow. "You're wearing your Shibuya clothes?"

The newcomer shrugged, a fluid roll of his shoulders that spoke of indifference to the chill or the stakes. "Didn't exactly have Fallen Angel chic in my wardrobe. Besides, I feel comfortable in these." His voice was even, laced with a dry edge that cut through the tension without trying, like he'd already sized up the absurdity and found it mildly amusing.

Issei's jaw dropped, his earlier theories crumbling into blunt disbelief as he straightened, eyes raking over the guy like he'd materialized from a skate park instead of a war zone. "Whoa, hold up—you're the back-up? Dude, you look like you just wandered out of a street fashion ad. No offense, but... you sure you're in the right spot? This ain't a concert venue." He crossed his arms, blunt as a hammer, his tone pitching toward skepticism, though a flicker of reluctant curiosity undercut the jab—like he half-expected the kid to pull a hidden arsenal from those shorts.

Kiba, though, held his tongue, his own gaze lingering with the quiet precision of someone who'd learned long ago that true threats didn't announce themselves with capes or scars. He watched the way the newcomer planted his feet—not wide and aggressive, but balanced, weight shifted subtly to the balls, ready for a pivot or a burst. No fidgeting, no darting glances; just a steady calm, like a blade sheathed but humming with intent. It reminded him of Koneko in her off moments—petite, unremarkable at a glance, until she uncoiled and the world cracked under her fists. This guy carried the same undercurrent, a coiled stillness that whispered of battles fought in shadows, not spotlights. The headphones, the casual vibe—it all screamed outsider, but the set of his jaw, the faint glint in those blue eyes as they met Kiba's without flinching? That was the mark of someone who'd danced with death and learned its steps.

Just who was this kid?

Issei, shaking off his earlier disbelief, stepped forward with a grin that was all bravado, thrusting out a hand toward the orange-haired newcomer. "Anyway, where's my manners? I'm Issei Hyoudou! Koneko's told us, like, nothing about you, so you're kinda a mystery, man."

The boy raised an eyebrow, his hands still in his pockets, the indigo headphones around his neck catching a glint of moonlight. "Aren't you the guy who got caught peeking into the girls' locker room? And got stomped on for it?"

Issei puffed out his chest, unfazed, his grin widening as if he'd been handed a badge of honor. "You know it! Anything for a good look at unfiltered titty is totally worth a few internal bruises and public humiliation here and there!" He laughed, loud and unapologetic, completely missing the way Koneko's eye twitched in disgust.

The boy's expression didn't shift, but a subtle grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm already starting to regret this," he muttered, his voice low and edged with the kind of exasperation that came from dealing with someone like Issei for all of five seconds. Koneko reached over, giving his shoulder a sympathetic pat, her touch light but deliberate, like she was silently apologizing for subjecting him to this.

Kiba let out a soft chuckle. He could already see why Koneko and the boy clicked—the sharp-tongue and deadpan tone was oh-so familiar. Pushing off the wall, he stepped forward, his movements smooth and measured, offering a nod. "Kiba Yuuto," he said, his tone friendly but carrying that knightly calm that put people at ease. "Good to meet you. Koneko says you're someone we can count on."

The boy gave a slight nod back, his posture relaxed but alert, like he was used to being thrown into situations where trust was earned fast or not at all. "Neku Sakuraba," he said, his voice steady, not offering more than needed. He glanced at Koneko, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes before he turned back to the group.

Issei, never one to let a moment breathe, leaned in, his curiosity overriding any sense of tact. "So, Neku, what's your deal? Koneko says you're good in a fight." He squinted, clearly trying to reconcile Neku's streetwear vibe with the idea of someone who could hold their own against fallen angels. "You got, like, secret powers or something?"

Neku shrugged, the motion fluid, almost dismissive, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he was holding back a smirk. "Let's just say I've got a few tricks up my sleeves. A dozen of them, at that."

Issei blinked, his brow furrowing as he stared at Neku's sleeveless shirt. "But you don't even have sleeves." His voice was flat, like he'd just been handed a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

Koneko snorted, a rare sound that broke the tension, her lips twitching upward as she exchanged a glance with Neku. Kiba's smile widened, his sharp gaze catching the easy camaraderie between them, the way Neku's dry humor seemed to pull Koneko out of her usual shell.

The church's bell tolled once, a low, mournful sound that cut through the night, pulling their focus back to the task ahead. Issei cracked his knuckles, his earlier skepticism giving way to a restless energy. "Alright, mystery guy, let's see what those 'tricks' can do. We're busting in to save Asia, and I'm not letting some winged jerks get in my way."

Neku's eyes flicked to the church, then back to Koneko, a silent question in his gaze. She nodded, a small but firm gesture, and he exhaled through his nose, adjusting his headphones with a quick tap. "Guess it's showtime," he said, his voice low but steady.

The air inside the church was stale, heavy with the scent of dust and decay, the shattered remnants of sacred icons littering the floor like fallen soldiers. Moonlight filtered through broken stainedglass windows, casting eerie shards of color across the desecrated pews. Koneko led the charge, her steps resolute as she marched toward the entrance, ignoring the splintered side doors or the shadowed alcoves. Neku trailed a step behind, his brow arching in mild curiosity.

"Not even gonna scope out a sneaky way in?" he asked, his tone carrying that signature dry edge, hands still tucked in his pockets as if this were a casual stroll.

Koneko didn't break stride, her shoulders lifting in a faint shrug. "They've already sniffed us out. No sense dragging this out." With a swift, powerful kick, she sent the massive double doors crashing inward, wood groaning and hinges shrieking in protest as they slammed against the inner walls.

The group stepped into the dim interior, their eyes darting through the gloom for any flicker of movement. Darkness clung to every corner, broken only by slivers of pale light that revealed the devastation—statues of holy figures lay in rubble, their serene faces cracked and staring blankly at the ceiling, while crosses hung crookedly or lay smashed on the stone floor.

"This is horrible…" Issei muttered under his breath, his fists tightening at his sides, a rare shadow crossing his usually brash demeanor as he glared at the sacrilege.

"Is it? I mean, it doesn't look that terrible in here…" Neku mused aloud, his voice genuine but detached, tilting his head as he surveyed the wreckage. Must be one of those devil hangups, he thought to himself, not quite grasping the deeper significance for the others.

Before anyone could respond, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the far end of the nave, slicing through the heavy silence. A figure emerged from the shadows near the altar, his platinum hair glinting unnaturally in the faint light. He wore a long-tailed black coat over a crisp white shirt and trousers, a twisted grin splitting his face as he sauntered forward. "Yo, yo, yo~! Looks like we cross paths again!" His voice scratched like a wornout record, dripping with perverse glee. "I'm getting all misty-eyed! It's rare for me to bump into the same devil twice, y'know, but I'm just thrilled to see you lot! The pathetic little devil, the resident pretty boy, the cute little kitten, and…" His gaze landed on Neku, his smirk faltering into a flat stare. "Okay, I'll keep it real—I got no clue who the hell you are."

Neku turned to Koneko, his expression unimpressed. "Who's this clown?"

"Freed Sellzen. Creepy exorcist. Riddled Issei with holes last time they crossed paths," she replied curtly, her tone clipped as if saying his name alone left a bad taste.

"Ah." Neku nodded once, filing that tidbit away without a flicker of concern.

Issei pushed forward, his jaw tight with barely contained fury. "Where the hell is Asia, you sick freak?!"

Freed's grin widened into something grotesque, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing delight. "Oh, you're here for sweet lil' Asia, huh? Can't say I blame ya for being curious." His voice dropped into a sleazy drawl as he licked his lips. "Last I saw her inside, she was decked out in this flimsy little one-piece dress, chained up to a cross like the Lord and Savior himself."

Issei's eyes bulged, teeth grinding together so hard they might've cracked, his rage palpable as he absorbed the vile imagery.

Freed hugged himself dramatically, shivering with mock ecstasy. "I was itching to have some fun with her before the ritual kicked off, but Raynare swore she'd gut me like poultry if I got too close. Oohhhhh~, that woman knows how to stoke my masochistic side. But hey, maybe she'll let me carve up and toy with the corpse once she's done. It's the least I deserve after—"

WHAM!

The taunt was severed mid-sentence as a church bench tore free from its bolts with unnatural speed, hurtling across the room like a missile. It smashed into Freed with bone-rattling force, sending him spiraling into the nearest wall with a sickening thud. Dust and debris rained down as he slumped against the cracked stone, momentarily silenced.

Issei, Kiba, and Koneko turned in unison, blinking at the sudden takedown, only to find Neku standing there with one hand extended, fingers splayed as if he'd just flicked an annoying fly away, his face a mask of irritation. "Sorry. Couldn't stand hearing another word from his mouth," he said simply, lowering his arm without fanfare.

Issei's jaw hit the floor, astonishment replacing rage for a split second. "Dude, that was insane!" he exclaimed, practically vibrating with awe, his earlier doubts about Neku vaporizing on the spot.

Kiba let out a low whistle, his lips curling into an appreciative smirk as he crossed his arms. "Alright, now I get why Koneko vouched for you," he said, giving a nod of quiet respect, his sharp mind already reassessing the newcomer's potential.

A light pat on Neku's shoulder drew his attention, and he glanced over to see Koneko offering a small smile, the kind that softened her usual stoic edge just enough to notice. "Nice shot," she said, her voice quiet but carrying a genuine note of approval.

Neku gave a casual shrug, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, betraying his satisfaction. "It was nothing. Had to shut him up somehow," he replied, keeping his tone offhand even as his eyes flicked back to where the bench had pinned their enemy moments ago.

Their brief moment of camaraderie was cut short by a ragged, pained cough echoing through the desecrated church. All heads turned to see Freed staggering to his feet, blood trickling down the side of his face in a crimson streak, his expression twisted into pure, unadulterated rage. Dust clung to his coat as he braced himself against the cracked wall, his glare burning holes into the group.

"Okay, time-out! Time right the hell out! What the fuck was that?!" Freed barked, his voice a mix of disbelief and fury, his hand wiping at the blood with a shaky swipe as he pointed an accusing finger toward Neku.

Neku didn't flinch, instead tilting his head with a taunting smirk. "What? You're acting like it's the first time you've ever had wood in your face," he quipped, his words dripping with mockery, sharp enough to slice through the tension.

Freed's face contorted further, veins bulging at his temple as he practically vibrated with anger. "Oh, fuck right off, you little shit! Suggestive innuendos are my thing!" he seethed, yanking out a blade of shimmering light in one hand and a pistol in the other. The sight of the gun made Neku stiffen visibly, a subtle but noticeable reaction that Koneko caught from the corner of her eye.

"That's it! I'm going to carve out your guts and strew them all over this dump!" Freed snarled, his voice a guttural promise as he raised the pistol and unleashed a barrage of gunfire. The sharp cracks of bullets split the air, forcing the group to scatter like leaves in a storm. Koneko and Neku dove behind a row of splintered pews on one side, while Issei and Kiba took cover behind another set on the opposite flank, wood chips flying as rounds chewed through their makeshift barriers.

Crouched low, Koneko's gaze darted to Neku beside her, catching the tight set of his jaw and the way his fingers clenched a little too hard around the edge of the pew. "You okay?" she asked, her tone steady but laced with concern, her eyes searching his for any sign of distress beyond the obvious chaos.

Neku exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his posture to relax even as another bullet whizzed overhead, splintering wood near his shoulder. "Yeah, sorry. I just… really don't like guns," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual, carrying an edge of something raw—something personal that he didn't elaborate on. His focus shifted back to the fight, but there was a lingering tightness in his expression, a shadow of memory Koneko couldn't quite place.

She nodded once, not pushing for more, her own instincts kicking in as she peeked over the edge of their cover. Freed was still firing wildly, his light blade slashing at empty air in frustrated arcs, his manic laughter bouncing off the stone walls. "We can't stay pinned down," she muttered, more to herself than Neku, her mind already calculating the distance between them and their deranged opponent. "Gotta close the gap or take out that weapon."

Across the aisle, Issei's voice hissed through the din, barely audible over the gunfire. "Yo, pretty boy, got any bright ideas? 'Cause I'm not dying before I save Asia!" His bravado was undercut by the way he flinched at every shot, but there was a fire in his tone that refused to be doused.

Kiba's calm reply came smooth as ever, even under pressure. "Working on it. Keep your head down unless you want extra ventilation." His mind was already racing through strategies, assessing Freed's erratic movements for an opening.

Amid the chaos of gunfire echoing through the desecrated church, the splintered pews providing scant cover, Neku's voice sliced through the clamor with a sharpness that demanded attention. "I've got a plan. When I make my move, that's your signal to tear into this creep. Got it?" His tone was steady, carrying a quiet confidence despite the bullets whizzing past, chipping away at their shelter.

Koneko gave a curt nod from beside him, her eyes locked on the enemy with predatory focus. Across the aisle, Issei flashed a thumbs-up, his grin fierce even as he ducked lower behind the wood. Kiba's expression remained composed, but a subtle dip of his chin signaled his agreement, trust flickering in his gaze as he sized up Neku's resolve. They were ready to follow his lead.

Neku exhaled slowly, fingers brushing against the Psychokinesis pin. His other hand twitched, activating another pin. With a focused thought, he sent another heavy pew skidding across the stone floor toward Freed, who was still spewing venomous taunts between bursts of gunfire. The exorcist's manic laughter rang out as he saw the approaching object, his light blade gleaming in anticipation.

"Oh please, you think the same stunt's gonna catch me twice?!" Freed jeered, his voice dripping with derision as he raised his weapon. "Don't tell me you're just a one-trick pony, kid! That's seriously half-cocke—"

He never finished his mockery. As his blade sliced through the pew, cleaving it cleanly in two, a glowing symbol—危 (danger)—pulsed briefly on the wood's surface.

Freed had prepared for many things: devil ambushes, more thrown debris from that psychic little shit, maybe a combination of both.

But he wasn't ready for the goddamn explosion that erupted right in his face.

BOOM!

The blast roared through the church, a wave of heat and force flinging Freed skyward like a ragdoll. He gasped in agony, limbs flailing as debris rained down around him. "OH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" he screeched, his voice cracking with outrage midair. "HOW THE HELL IS THAT FAIR?!"

"It isn't," came Koneko's cold reply. Freed's wild eyes darted upward just in time to see her soaring above him, her petite frame a deadly silhouette against the shattered stained glass. Her fists were clenched together, raised high like she was about to spike a volleyball—and he was the unfortunate ball. "We're devils, after all."

"Oh, this is some bull—" Freed's protest was cut off as Koneko slammed her combined fists down with monstrous strength, sending him plummeting toward the ground like a meteor. Below, Issei was already charging forward, his body surging with power as he invoked promotion to Rook. His muscles tensed with newfound might, and he met Freed's descent with a brutal uppercut, launching the exorcist back into the air with a sickening crack of bone against fist.

Freed's trajectory arced helplessly, his body spinning out of control until it headed straight for Kiba, who had moved into position with lethal precision. The knight's eyes glinted with icy determination, a sword of demonic energy materializing in his grip as he murmured under his breath, "Playtime's over." With a fluid, almost elegant slash, he struck Freed mid-flight—a clean, devastating blow that sent the exorcist crashing into the altar with a thunderous impact. Stone cracked beneath him, and Freed lay sprawled amidst the rubble, blood pooling around his motionless form, his weapons clattering uselessly to the ground.

The dust settled slowly, the echoes of battle fading into an uneasy stillness. Kiba lowered his blade, letting it dissipate into wisps of energy as he turned to the others, his breath steady despite the exertion. "That's one down," he said quietly, his tone carrying a note of finality as his gaze swept over the group to check for injuries.

Issei let out a whoop, pumping a fist in the air. "Hell yeah! We trashed that creep! Nice teamwork, new guy!" His enthusiasm was infectious, though he winced slightly as he rolled his shoulder, feeling the strain of his promotion.

Koneko landed lightly near Neku, her expression returning to its usual stoic mask, though her eyes flicked to him with a hint of respect. "Didn't expect the boom," she admitted, her voice low but carrying a trace of amusement. "Good call."

Neku shrugged, brushing off imaginary dust from his hands as if detonating furniture was just another day. "Figured he needed a surprise. Guy talks too much." But there was a faint smirk on his lips again, a silent acknowledgment of their synchronized takedown.

Koneko stepped lightly toward the altar, her loafers crunching against the scattered debris of stone and splintered wood. With a swift kick, she nudged aside a chunk of rubble, revealing a hidden passage beneath—a dark, narrow stairwell descending into shadow. The air that wafted up carried a damp, musty chill, laced with something faintly metallic, hinting at what lay below.

Issei slammed his knuckle into his palm, a determined glint in his eyes as he squared his shoulders. "Alright, time to head down there, save Asia, and kick some—"

"Duck!"

Issei blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I mean, yeah, they're feathered and all that, but they look more like—"

"NO, DUCK!" Kiba barked again, urgency tightening his voice.

Realization hit Issei like a brick, and he dropped to the ground just as a spear of searing light sliced through the space where his head had been moments ago, crashing into a nearby pillar with a burst of sparks and shattered stone. The group's attention snapped upward to the source of the attack. Three figures had entered through one of the cracked side windows, their dark wings unfurling with an ominous rustle as they hovered in the dim light of the church.

The first was a young girl, seemingly no older than Koneko or Neku, her light blonde hair tied into two short ponytails that bounced as she tilted her head with a deceptive innocence. Her gothic lolita attire—black lace and frills over a deep burgundy dress—clung to her petite frame, accentuating her delicate build while small fangs peeked from her sly grin, adding a predatory edge to her childlike demeanor.

Beside her stood an adult woman, several years older, exuding a raw, commanding presence. Her partially open trenchcoat revealed ample cleavage and long, toned legs, the dark red fabric contrasting with black boots that clicked against the stone as she landed. Navy blue hair cascaded down her back in sleek waves, framing a face set with sultry bangs that shadowed piercing eyes, her every movement dripping with calculated allure.

At the center loomed a tall man, his trenchcoat billowing slightly as he adjusted the fedora atop his head. Short black hair framed sharp blue eyes that scanned the group with cold precision, his posture rigid with authority. The coat hung open just enough to hint at the tailored uniform beneath, marking him as someone who valued control over chaos.

The blonde girl let out a light giggle, her voice high and teasing as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Well, well, look what we have here. Three little devils and one seriously unlucky human all bundled up in one spot. How convenient!" Her tone was playful, but there was a vicious undertone that belied her dainty appearance.

Koneko fixed them with a flat, unamused stare, her body tense but unmoving as she crossed her arms. "And you are…?" she asked, her words clipped, betraying no fear—only impatience.

The man in the center tipped his fedora slightly, a smirk curling on his lips as he spoke in a low, gravelly tone. "Name's Dohnaseek. I handle... unpleasant business for those who cross our kind. And trust me, you've just made yourselves very unpleasant."

The woman with navy hair stepped forward, her voice deep and resonant, carrying an edge of disdain as her gaze raked over the group. "Kalawarner," she introduced herself curtly, adjusting her coat with a flick of her wrist. "I don't waste time on rabble, so let's make this quick. Surrender or be obliterated."

Finally, the blonde girl twirled a strand of her ponytail around her finger, her giggle bubbling up again as she bounced lightly on her heels. "And I'm Mittelt! Aww, aren't you all just adorable, thinking you can waltz in here? I almost feel bad for what's coming... almost." Her smile widened, revealing those tiny fangs again, her eyes glinting with sadistic glee.

The air thickened with menace as the three fallen angels spread out slightly, their wings casting jagged shadows across the ruined church floor. Light spears shimmered into existence in their hands, crackling with deadly energy. Kiba shifted subtly into a ready stance, his fingers flexing as if itching for a blade, while Issei growled low under his breath, already rising from his crouch with fury simmering in his eyes. Neku's expression remained cool, though his hand hovered near the pins at his side, assessing the new threats with a quiet intensity.

Issei stood with fists clenched, his frustration boiling over as he glared at the trio of fallen angels blocking their path. "Look, we don't have time for you winged psychos! We're here to save Asia! So either get out of our way or get your asses kicked!" His voice reverberated off the walls, raw with determination and a barely contained rage.

Mittelt tilted her head, her short ponytails swaying as a mocking giggle escaped her lips, her small fangs glinting in the dim light. "Aw, that's cute! He thinks he's people!" she chirped, her tone dripping with condescension as she clapped her hands in mock delight. "Sorry, but unfortunately for you heathens, you're not going anywhere without getting past us."

Kalawarner stepped forward, her trenchcoat swaying with each confident stride, a smug smirk curling her lips as she folded her arms. "That's right," she purred, her deep voice laced with arrogance. "So you might as well give up now and—"

WHAM!

Her words were cut off mid-sentence as a massive pew rocketed through the air with unnatural speed, slamming into her with the force of a freight train. The impact sent her crashing into the nearest wall, stone crumbling around her as a cloud of dust erupted from the collision. Dohnaseek and Mittelt froze, their eyes widening in a split second of disbelief as they turned to see what had just happened.

Neku stood with one hand on his hip, the other outstretched, his expression a mix of irritation and boredom as if he'd just swatted an annoying fly. "Seriously, has anyone ever told you guys that you leave yourselves open way too much?" he drawled, his tone sharp with annoyance. "That's like the second time today I've pulled this off."

Issei burst into laughter, slapping his knee as he pointed at the fallen angel now embedded in the wall. "Man, I'm really starting to like your style, new guy!" he crowed, his earlier frustration melting into genuine admiration. Beside him, Kiba let out a quiet snicker, his lips twitching upward, while Koneko allowed herself a small, amused smile, her hazel eyes glinting with approval as she glanced at Neku.

Kalawarner dragged herself out of the jagged hole in the wall, debris tumbling from her shoulders as she staggered to her feet. Her navy hair was disheveled, strands clinging to her face, and her oncepristine coat was torn at the edge. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, and her eyes burned with a fury so intense it seemed to ignite the air around her. "You little bastard!" she snarled, her deep voice trembling with rage as she pointed a trembling finger at Neku. "Do you have any idea who you're screwing with? I'm gonna rip you apart piece by piece and use your bones to decorate this dump! You're nothing but a cockroach under my heel!"

Neku didn't flinch, his cool gaze meeting hers without a flicker of fear. Instead, he turned to the others, his voice calm but firm. "You three go on without me. Head down that passage and get Asia out of here."

Issei blinked, caught off guard, his mouth opening in protest. "Wait, what? No way, man! We're not just leaving you to deal with these freaks solo!" His tone was insistent, his protective streak flaring as he stepped forward, ready to argue.

Kiba's brow furrowed slightly, surprise flickering across his usually composed features. "Are you certain? We're stronger together," he added, his voice measured but carrying a note of concern as he studied Neku's unflinching expression.

Neku shook his head, cutting off Issei before he could push further. "You'll need all the firepower you've got to save her. I've got this covered. Trust me, I've faced way scarier things than these clowns." His words carried a quiet weight, a shadow of past battles lingering beneath the surface as he gave them a reassuring nod.

Issei opened his mouth again, clearly ready to keep fighting the decision, but Koneko's voice stopped him cold. She stepped closer to Neku, her gaze piercing as she searched his face for any hint of doubt. "You're really sure about this?" she asked, her tone softer than usual, though her stoic mask remained firmly in place.

Neku met her stare without hesitation, his expression resolute. "Yeah. I'm sure. I can handle them."

There was a beat of silence, Koneko's eyes narrowing slightly as she weighed his words. Then, with a small nod, she relented, though her voice took on a sharp edge. "Fine. But you better not die, or I'm dragging you back just to beat you up myself.

A genuine smile tugged at Neku's lips. "I'll hold you to that," he replied, his tone light but carrying an unspoken promise.

As the trio of devils turned toward the hidden passage behind the altar, preparing to descend into the unknown depths, the fallen angels snapped out of their shock. Dohnaseek's sharp blue eyes narrowed, and he barked an order to the others. "Don't let them get away!" In unison, they unleashed a volley of light spears, deadly projectiles shimmering with lethal energy as they hurtled toward the group.

Before the spears could find their marks, a roaring wall of fire erupted from the ground in front of Neku, the orange flames surging upward like a living barrier. The searing heat devoured the light spears mid-flight, reducing them to harmless sparks that fizzled out against the inferno. Neku stood at the center of it all, unscathed and unfazed, one hand raised as tendrils of fire danced around him, courtesy of another pin's power. He lowered his hand slowly, fixing the stunned fallen angels with a taunting smirk. "What, never seen a magic trick before? Stick around—I've got plenty more where that came from."

Mittelt gritted her teeth, her delicate features twisting into a scowl as her small hands clenched into fists. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" she spat, her high-pitched voice laced with indignation as she hovered slightly higher, wings twitching with agitation.

Neku tilted his head, the smirk widening as he flicked his wrist. A sand-colored energy blade materialized around his arm, humming with raw power as it shimmered in the flickering firelight.

"Name's Neku Sakuraba," he said coolly, his voice carrying across the ruined church like a challenge. "Three-time winner of a certain game. And trust me, compared to that hell, you lot are just a warm-up. So come on..."

His eyes narrowed.

"Thrill me."

XXXXX

The narrow stairwell beneath the altar descended into a suffocating darkness, the air growing colder and damper with each step Koneko, Issei, and Kiba took. The faint drip of water echoed somewhere in the distance, mingling with the scuff of their boots against the uneven stone. Torches mounted sporadically along the walls flickered with an unnatural green flame, casting long, wavering shadows that danced like specters on the roughhewn surfaces. The oppressive weight of the earth above seemed to press down on them, a silent reminder of the danger they'd left behind—and the one they were walking into.

Issei's brow was furrowed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he trudged forward, his usual bravado dimmed by a gnawing unease. "Man, I feel like garbage leaving Neku up there to deal with those freaks by himself," he muttered, his voice bouncing off the tight walls with a frustrated edge. "Sure, he's got some killer moves, but what if those winged jerks pull something nasty? We should've stuck together."

Koneko, walking a step ahead, didn't turn around at first, her posture as steady as ever despite the uneven terrain. Her voice came out calm, almost matter-of-fact, cutting through the gloom like a blade. "He's strong, Issei. Stronger than he looks. He'll hold them off." Her words carried a quiet conviction, as if she weren't just guessing but stating something she'd seen proven time and again.

Issei glanced at her, one eyebrow arching in curiosity as he quickened his pace to match hers. "I mean, yeah, I can see that with all his crazy tricks and explosions, but even so—"

"I'm not just talking about his abilities," Koneko interjected, her tone still even but with a subtle weight that made Issei pause mid-step. She kept her eyes forward, watching the flickering green light play across the next bend in the passage, but there was a softness in her expression that wasn't often there.

Issei tilted his head, confusion etching across his face. "You aren't? Then what're you getting at?"

Koneko exhaled quietly, her shoulders loosening just a fraction as if the words had been waiting to spill out. "It's more than just what he can do. It's what he's been through. He's faced things most people couldn't even imagine—stuff that would break anyone else. Battles that test more than just strength, you know? Things that force you to look at yourself, figure out who you really are." Her voice dipped slightly, a rare trace of emotion threading through it as she spoke. "And even after all that, he's still… kind. In his own way. Doesn't push people away, even if he acts like he might. He's got a good heart under all that snark."

There was a brief silence in the stairwell, broken only by the distant drip of water and the soft crackle of the eerie flames. Kiba, who had been walking silently behind them, let a small smile curve his lips, his sharp eyes catching the faint shift in Koneko's demeanor. "You have a lot of faith in him, don't you?" he remarked, his tone gentle but carrying a knowing edge, as if he'd picked up on something deeper in her words.

Koneko didn't respond right away. Her steps slowed for just a moment, and when she finally glanced sideways at Kiba, a soft, almost imperceptible smile touched her face—a rare sight that spoke volumes without a single word.

"…Yeah. I do," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper but resonating with unshakable certainty.

The trio pressed onward, the passage narrowing further as the air grew heavier with the scent of mold and iron. Koneko's thoughts lingered on Neku, on the boy who'd survived unimaginable trials and still found ways to surprise her with his quiet strength and unexpected warmth. She trusted him to hold his ground up there against those fallen angels, to keep fighting with that stubborn resolve she'd come to admire.

Because if he didn't, she was totally going to kick his ass.